Keeping Secrets
by Lorcain
Summary: Altaïr kills Talal and begins to question Al-Mualim's beliefs. For an essay. All canon. Oneshot. M for violence.


"_Keeping Secrets"_

_1-4-12_

A hooded figure, dressed in white, sat perched upon a wooden beam on top of a watch tower in Jerusalem. He wore a hooded white robe, the bottom half more akin to a segregated skirt for free movement. The top rim of hood met in a spike, like an eagle's beak. It cast a shadow on his face, revealing only an evil smile and a satisfied glint in his eyes. His large hunting knife was in a snug leather sheath on his back. He wore a large leather belt and other webbing from his waist, which held a pouch on his back and a sheathed short sword on his left hip. He had a pair of leather bracers and studded leather gloves. He also wore brown-grey trousers and leather boots reaching his shin. His pure white wardrobe had stray pieces of crimson red in places.

He was missing his ring finger, to make way for a hidden blade fixed to the inside of his sleeve.

His name was Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Master Assassin in skill, but not of rank. He was demoted to Novice by his master, Al-Mualim, after failing a crucial mission. He had since worked hard to climb to Footpad, but his pride was still stained. Rembering this, he stood, finished surveying the area below him. He walked to the edge of the beam, seeing a bale of hay on the street below. He spread his arms wide and dived from the beam.

He could never get used to the sensation of falling, breath stolen from his lungs, wind whipping at his face, he felt like God. He landed in the hay with a loud thump, as he did so, he saw a girl holding a jar above her head jump out of her skin, jar smashing to pieces on the hot cobbled street.

Altaïr jumped out of the hay, walking down the street nonchalantly, hay clinging to him, stray pieces being carried off by the wind.

"What a strange man.." someone said aloud. He pretended not to hear, carrying on down the road.

He found his target – an important-looking building. A man was at the door, preaching about his prey.

"Come! Gather around! Let me tell you what Talal can offer!" he preached, beckoning everyone he could see. Altaïr leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed.

"Times are hard, we know! Talal knows! Money is scarce, but for an honest day's work, you will be rewarded!" Altaïr looked down. Talal, he found out, was a slaver. Kidnapping people off the streets of Jerusalem, and hiding them in a warehouse in the rich district.

The preacher began to leave. Altaïr cricked his neck and began to follow him through the crowd. He turned into a secluded alley.

_Perfect._

As fast as lightning, Altaïr kicked the man in the back of the leg, and he fell to one knee as it was followed by swift punch to the face.

"I give up, stop!" he cried.

"You know a lot about Telal." Altaïr stated.

"His work benefits everyone!" Altaïr grabbed the man by the throat and pinned him to the wall. "I will not... answer to... you!" he protested painfully.

"Speak to me, or speak to God."

"He has... guards...too many...for even...you." he gasped.

"Anything else?" the man looked defeated.

"N-no. That's...all I know.."

"Alright. You can rest now." Altaïr said, loosing his grip for a second, before plunging his hidden blade in the man's throat.

-xXx-

Altaïr leapt from the rooftop to the next. Climbing up, he saw the assassin's symbol etched on the flat sandstone roof, with a square hole cut in. He dropped down, narrowly avoiding an indoor fountain. Inside the room there were carpets and cushions, for resting, and an arch to the next room. He strode inside to meet the Rafiq, the Jerusalem bereau leader.

His name was Malik Al-Sayf, and he used to be Altaïr's partner. He wore black robes decorated with white and red details. He was missing his left arm.

"Safety and peace, Malik." Altaïr said automatically.

"Your presence here deprives me of both." was Malik's venomous reply.

"I have learned about my target. He traffics human lives, kidnapping Jerusalem citizens and selling them to slavery. He uses a warehouse in the east."

Malik did not reply.

"Is that good enough?" Altaïr asked.

"No." spat Malik. "...but it will have to do. Rest, prepare, cry in the corner, do whatever it is you do before a mission, only make sure you do it quietly." he scowled, handing Altaïr a feather. Altaïr took it, and went into the other room to rest.

-xXx-

"_...but the creed! This is not the way-" Malik protested._

"_My way is better." Altaïr stated, ending the conversation. Kedar, Malik's brother gave one last look at the slain innocent before following his comrades into the gloom._

_Masyaf, the home of assassins, was in cheer. Altaïr followed Al-Mualim's plan to ambush the templars with a tower full of logs to rain down on their army, and Altaïr walked briskly to Al-Mualim._

"_It worked Altaïr. Do you know why?" the old man asked. He wore a rafiq's robe, and a long grey beard._

_Altaïr remained silent._

"_Because you listened!" Al-Mualim huffed. "Malik told me of what you did in Soloman's temple." he motioned to the guards, who grabbed Altaïr, an arm each._

"_What are you doing!" Altaïr yelled, panicking._

"_I cannot allow traitors, Altaïr."_

"_I am no traitor!"_

"_Oh, really? You broke all three rules of the creed!" he sighed. "The Creed tells us to stay-"_

_"Our blade from the flesh of the innocent, I know I know!" Altaïr protested._

_Al-Mualim backhanded him across the face._

"_And stay your tongue, unless I give you leave to use it!" Altaïr sighed._

"_Hide in the shadows. From what I heard, you approached De Sable directly!" _

"_And the third: Never compromise the brotherhood. Your actions today cost Malik his arm, and his brother." he drew a golden knife from his belt. "I am sorry Altaïr." he sighed, before plunging the dagger into Altaïr's stomach._

_Altaïr screamed, and fell limp._

-xXx-_  
_

Altaïr woke from his slumber. Sighing, he got up from his cushion, and climbed up the fountain to the hole in the ceiling. Blinking in the sunlight, he pulled himself onto the roof.

To the warehouse. Altaïr set off, running across a conveniant wooden beam to the next building, then sprinted off, leaping for the next, nearly catching it on his chin.

"Get down, or I shoot!" a voice commanded him. Altaïr sighed, then as quick as a flash, threw a knife with deadly accuracy into the archer's chest, who collapsed and slid off the roof into the crowd below. People screamed and ran in terror, but before anyone had the intelligence to look up, Altaïr was gone.

After three more buildings, Altaïr had found the warehouse. Climbing down from the roof, he cautiously entered the building. He nearly jumped as the heavy steel door fell, locking him in.

"Welcome, assassin!" Talal greeted from the shadows.

"Let us do this with honor!" Altaïr growled.

A window in the ceiling opened, letting the sun's light filter through the dirty glass, making a square of light in the middle of the dark room.

"Step into the light and face me." he said, but Altaïr didn't trust him. He circled the saffron patch of light, hidden in the shadows, looking for a way up. He heard light footsteps above and behind him – he was exposed. Flattening against the wall, he stared upwards, waiting for someone to jump out.

"'Come on assassin, what to your _honor_?" he mused. There was no other way. Altaïr strode into the light.

"I have come to stop your vile work, slave trader." Altaïr spoke confidently. Talal stamped to the ledge of the level above Altaïr, and into a better light.

Talal carried a bow on his back, along with a quiver full of arrows. He also wore a sword sheathed in its scabbard, though he was more experienced with a bow and arrow. He wore a dark gray tunic with yellow stripes and plain white leggings. Talal also wore two vambraces on each wrist and had a large belt around him. He also had a goatee and had his hair braided flat against the back of his head. He was of average height and stature.

"Do not call me that, assassin! I am no slaver...I am helping them work in God's plan."

"God does not chain up his people and force them to work to death!" Altaïr yelled.

"It seems I cannot help you, for you do not wish to help yourself. And I cannot allow my work to be threatened. You leave me no choice. You must die." he said, motioning with his arm as he sank back into the gloom.

Eight men wearing clothes similar to Talal, but with hooded turbans, jumped down and surrounded Altaïr.

He drew his hunting knife. The sunlight from the window shone on it, and it gleamed as if thirsty. He took a defensive stance, and the fight began.

The man behind him moved forward – Altaïr heard the step and he crouched, avoiding a sword thrust as Altaïr leapt to him and punched a hole between his ribs. The man screamed and fell, dropping his sword as his partner to the right chopped down on Altaïr – but it was brushed aside as Altaïr's knife met his sword, leaving an opening. Altaïr pounced onto the man's chest and plunged his knife into his throat.

Altaïr rolled forward, stood and quickly turned, bringing his knife up to eye-level, and waited for the next attack.

One grabbed him by the collar, but Altaïr whacked it upwards with his arm, and brought the man's arm behind his back before kicking him to the ground.

Just as he got ready, one strafed towards him and broke his defense, sending his knife flying – Altaïr went backwards, his arm on the ground to steady him, and he kicked the soldier's sword from his hand before leaping forward and rapidly stabbed him four times with his hidden blades.

The man behind him jumped up – only to be slashed at the neck.

Four down, four left. He grabbed his fallen knife.

Altaïr threw himself to his enemy's feet and stabbed him in the foot – making him double over as Altaïr stood and slashed at his throat, and he spinned once before collapsing, crimson liquid spurting as he went.

The man behind Altaïr hit him on the side of his head, and the assassin fell and rolled on his back and kicked the man where he should not be kicked. It was then easy to stab him in the back of the throat.

The two remaining guards readied their swords. Altaïr threw two knives and them and they fell.

"Men Allah, la! Get him away from me!" Talal cried in horror, escaping through a trap door. Light poured in, and Altaïr could see that there was scaffolding on the walls. He climbed as fast as only an assassin could be, and he heard the unmistakable sound of an arrow being nocked. He dodged, the arrow whizzing overhead as Altaïr got up and ran through the man, pushing him off the platform.

Altaïr climbed the ladder and and spotted Talal. He cowered and ran. Altaïr jumped to the next building – he was above Talal who ran into the market, pushing people aside as he ran for his life. It was no use. Altaïr dove off the rooftop and landed on Talal, and stabbed him in the side.

"You've nowhere to run now. Share your secrets with me." Altaïr said, cradling the dying slaver.

"My part is played. The Brotherhood is not so weak that my death will stop its work." he rasped.

"What Brotherhood?" Altaïr asked, confused.

"Al Mualim is not the only one with designs upon the Holy Land. And that's all you'll have from me!"

"Then we are finished. Beg forgiveness from your god!"

"He's long abandoned us. Long abandoned the men and women I took into my arms." Talal said despairingly.

"What do you mean?"

"Beggars, addicts, lepers: do they strike you as proper slaves? Unfit for even the most menial tasks? No... I took them, not to sell, but to save, and yet you'd kill us all... for no other reason than it was asked of you."

"No! You profit from the war, from lives lost and broken." Altaïr shouted, shaking him.

"Yes, you would think that, ignorant as you are. Wall off your mind: they say it's what your kind do best. Do you see the irony in all this? No, not yet, it seems, but you will..." he said with his last breath. Altaïr smeared his blood into the feather.

Talal the slaver was no more.

-xXx-

"_...But there are herbs, mixtures and extracts. My guards are proof of this: they were madmen before I found and freed them from the prisons of their own minds... And with my death, madmen they will be again." the doctor Garnier De Naplouse strained._

"_You truly believe you were helping them?"_

"_It's not what I believe... it's what I know."_

_-xXx-  
_

_The leader of the teutonic order, Sibrand lay in Altaïr's arms._

"_Please, don't do this!" he cried as he watched blood spurt from his wound._

"_You are afraid..."_

"_Of course I am afraid!"_

"_But you'll be safe now, held in the arms of your god."_

"_Have my brothers taught you nothing! I know what waits for me, for all of us!"_

"_If not your god, then what?"_

"_Nothing. Nothing waits... and that is what I fear." Sibrand sighed._

"_You don't believe?"_

"_How could I, given what I know? What I've seen? Our treasure was the proof!"_

"_Proof of what?"_

"_That this life is all we have!" he cried._

"_Linger a while longer then, and tell me of the part you were to play."_

"_A blockade by sea, to keep the fool kings and queens from sending reinforcements once we... once we..."_

"_Conquered the Holy Land?"_

"_Freed it, you fool, from the tyranny of faith!"_

"_Freedom! You worked to overthrow cities, control men's minds, murdered any who spoke against you!"_

"_I followed my orders, believing in my cause, same as you." he said, and slumped._

-xXx-_  
_

Al-Mualim had some questions to answer.

_"Men must be free to do what they believe. It is not our right to punish one for thinking what they do, no matter how much we disagree!" _and then, Altaïr remembered the assassin's motto.

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted."


End file.
